


Born in a 24-hour open diner

by HappyKonny



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Youtube RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Author!Mark, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Writer!Mark, and falling in love, and just being cute, artist!jack, inspiring each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:24:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyKonny/pseuds/HappyKonny
Summary: The best writing is done at night. Someplace where your thoughts can be free and no one bothers you.Like at a diner that's open 24-hours. The perfect place to write short stories and start writing a novel.Said diner is also a great escape for artists who don't feel like drawing, or just can't sleep.Who would've thought the guy who was always sitting there, writing, alone, was an amazing author?And who would've thought that a writers-block and insomnia could be the beginning of a relationship?





	1. Chapter 1

Jack loved his job. Being an artist was amazing, especially when he could actually live off of doing it. And he could, and he loved it. He worked for a small company, where he and someone else made a comic together for said company. He knew everyone there and was basically friends with them all, even if they were his superiors. He got enough time on his own hands to draw fanart for games he loved, sometimes even for some books or stories he read. And he also let people commission him, for reasonable prices.  
His life was great, all in all. He had no problems with money, had a nice apartment and did what he loved for a living. He had friends he talked to regularly, not all being from his work either. But his struggle-less life and never changing routine were becoming boring and tiring. Jack had no idea what else to add to his life, that wouldn’t be too time-consuming and too exhausting. So he lived his life like he always had.

When Jack miraculously had nothing to do in his evenings and nights, or just didn’t feel like doing anything and could afford not to even try to do something, or if he had an art-block, or if he just simply couldn’t sleep, Jack liked to go to a diner that was close to where he lived. It was open 24-hours, so even in sleepless nights he could go there and get something cheap but tasty to eat, or just get a coffee or something. He could relax there, maybe doodle a little in a notebook he tended to carry around. And when he felt tired or like he could do something, he’d leave to get back home. And if he spend the whole night there, then he couldn’t change that and would go to work without having slept.

For as long as Jack came to this diner, he would always see this one man sit alone in a booth, a notebook and a collegeblock in front of him, together with a cup of coffee and surrounded by crumbled up pieces of paper. No matter what day it was, whenever Jack came to the diner, no matter what time in the night, that guy would be there.  
Jack would often see him stare at the pages, sometimes he was staring out of the window, and sometimes he was actually writing when Jack saw him. It made Jack wonder what the guy was writing and why he was always in the diner to do so. But that wasn’t his business, so Jack left the black haired man alone.

One night, Jack couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, so finally he gave up to sleep and got up again. He didn’t feel like drawing anything serious right now, but he did feel like eating something. So he got dressed and left his apartment, walking along the familiar streets towards the little diner he always went to in nights like these.  
Walking inside, he let his gaze sweep over the diner. There was maybe a handful of people here, himself included. And of course, there was the guy that was always here as well. Currently staring out the window, at least five crumbled up papers on the table, but no dishes. So either he hadn’t been here for long -which Jack doubted by the papers- or they had just been cleaned up and he’d order something new again soon.

Jack shrugged it off, it wasn’t really his business after all, even if he was curious. So he sat down somewhere and ordered himself some breakfast and a coffee. While waiting, he pulled out his notebook and started doodling a little in it. He had a rather simplistic drawing style, though he could do more complicated things drawing digitally as well. But when he was out, he usually only drew simple things, unless he had an idea for something and planned another drawing.  
Eating breakfast went slowly thanks to him being distracted by drawing, but he had eventually emptied his plate and cup of coffee. A groan of frustration gained Jack’s attention and he looked up from his drawing, looking around the diner to see where it had came from.

His eyes landed on the guy always writing. His face laid on the table, one arm propped up next to it and laying over his head, while the other arm laid on the table and blocked off any light that could reach his face -like he was hiding his face in it. Kind of. There were even more crumbled up papers surrounding him, and Jack felt bad for him. Maybe he was a writer and had a writers-block?  
Jack could feel the guy’s pain, being blocked in the one thing you loved doing was terrible. Feeling for the guy, Jack got up from his seat and ordered two coffees: one for himself and one for the writer. Once he had his cups, he walked over to the booth the man was sitting in and sat down opposite of him.

“Here man, got ya a coffee”, Jack said and placed one cup down, pushing it towards the other. He stayed unresponsive for a moment, before a loud sigh escaped him and he mumbled something.  
“What’s that?”, Jack asked, not having heard what the guy had said. With his face against the table, and hid behind his arm, he was really not understandable at all.  
“Thanks”, the guy repeated, while he pulled himself up and sat straight again, pushing his glasses back up his face. He ran a hand through his longer locks of hair, before picking up the mug.  
Jack all the while was just  _staring_  at the guy, taking in his appearance. His strong build, tan skin, dark eyes framed nicely by his glasses, and how his hair hand into his face. Jack couldn’t help himself, that man was  _cute as fuck_. A gorgeous cutie.

“So”, Jack cleared his throat, trying to get his head back on straight, and  _not_  be distracted by how cute it made the other when he tilted his head in a questioning manner.  
“What’cha writin’ there?”, Jack asked, motioning towards the writing utensils on the table and the crumbled up papers. He was genuinely curious, and maybe that guy would appreciate to have his mind off of whatever he was trying to bring to paper.  
“Nothing good”, the man sighed in response, propping up one arm on the table again, to put his head in his hand, staring at the pages.  
“Whatever I’m writing, nothing sounds right. It doesn’t flow with the rest. It’s frustrating”, he whined, looking almost agonized. It seemed like he had been stuck for quite a while, to get so frustrated over it.  
“I get ya. Maybe take yer mind off it would help?”, Jack suggested. He had laid his notebook on the table, closed. He knew that when he was stuck with no idea what to draw, it helped to take his mind off of drawing and do something else he enjoyed. Or simply get inspired by something, like reading or playing games.

The writer hummed in response, looking absentmindedly at his things. It seemed like he was contemplating it, before he once again sighed and leaned back, closing both of the book and block.  
“Yeah, maybe that’ll help”, he agreed, now studying Jack. Taking in the stranger’s dyed hair, the green already fading and looking more blonde/yellow/orange-ish at the roots. The gentle blue eyes, like the ocean. The thin frame and pale skin.  
“My name’s Jack. Who’re you?”, Jack asked, not minding the other seizing him up. He had basically done the same before to him after all, though he couldn’t help but feel a little flustered under his gaze.  
“My name is Mark. Nice to meet you, Jack”, Mark introduced himself with a smile, and Jack couldn’t help but smile back. That man should definitely not be allowed to be so fucking cute.

“So yer a writer?”, Jack asked. Maybe this guy had already some things published? Or maybe he was just starting and trying to get something good, before trying to publish it?  
“Yeah. Only did short stories before this though”, Mark replied, drinking from his coffee. So he was trying to write a novel this time, instead of a shorter story like he was used to? Jack was definitely intrigued.  
“Anything ya got published I’d know?”, Jack asked, curious. Depending on what Mark was writing, there was a chance Jack had read it at some point. He liked short stories a lot, since they were great to get inspired by.  
“Yeah. Got “The Author” and “Alter Egos” out. The first is pretty popular”, Mark responded, and Jack couldn’t stop himself from getting both surprised and shocked at that.  
“Yer Mark Fischbach? Holy fock, dude, I love yer stories”, Jack exclaimed, leaning forward a little. He had read both of the books, the first of them also being his favorite of the two, if he was being honest.  
Mark seemed a little taken aback by the statement, but soon enough he smiled -a little wobbly though- and averted his eyes. A little blush was also staining his cheeks, by the looks of it.  
“Heh, great to hear that. Uhm. Glad you like them”, Mark said, obviously embarrassed to have met someone who liked his stories. He was flattered too, of course, but it was just a strange experience.

“Sorry, got a lil’ excited there”, Jack chuckled, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip from his coffee. He wouldn’t have thought he’d ever meet the guy, let alone know that this amazing writer was  _right here_  and that almost  _every night_. It was hard to believe, honestly, but here Jack was, sitting face to face with Mark Fischbach.  
“It’s no problem. Just hoping not to disappoint you, or anyone reading my stuff, with being unable to get anything new out”, Mark said and sighed, slumbing a little in his seat. He really beat himself up over that it seemed.  
“Hey, it’s no problem man. People need ta wait for the good shit”, Jack said with a little grin, trying to reassure Mark. And he knew what he was talking about, he sometimes didn’t post any drawings himself for days. People just  have to wait to get something.  
“Yeah...”, Mark sighed, emptying his cup of coffee. “Alter Egos” had come out just last year, but Mark didn’t want to have his name forgotten after having two relatively successful books with short-stories, especially if he wanted to write and publish a novel.

“How ‘bout this”, Jack started, pulling out his phone. He got an idea how he could help this amazing writer and man he would love to consider friend, and who he also found incredibly cute and handsome, and it would also give him his phone number -though that wasn’t of course reason number one he would suggest his idea.  
“I’m an artist, so I get how yer feelin’ right now. So how ‘bout, when either of us is stuck with somethin’, the other can send something to maybe spark an idea”, Jack suggested. He could give Mark drawings or ideas he had, and Mark could give him ideas he had or show him something he knew that could spark some ideas.  
Mark hummed in thought, tilting his head while thinking it over -the cute bastard- before coming to a conclusion. He nodded and pulled out his phone, and the men exchanged numbers.  
“To start this off..”, Jack looked through his sketchbook, until he came upon a drawing he could give Mark. He had already scanned it, so he could give the original away. 

Offering the now ripped out page, he gave it to Mark, who took it carefully, before looking over it. The drawing was rather simple: there was an open, old looking door, through which fell light into a dark room. What was visible of the room seemed to just stone walls and stone ground, two stone steps leading from the door, which was higher than the stone ground.  
“Thanks, Jack”, Mark smiled at Jack, putting the drawing into his notebook, before closing it again. It hopefully would spark some ideas, and if not, then he’d just have to live with it. He had worse already.

“I should head home, get some sleep”, Jack said, yawning. He finally felt tired and like he could get some sleep, and he’d love to take that opportunity. Mark wasn’t there to stop him, so they said their goodbyes and promised to text each other when the day had properly started. Mark would probably stay in the diner until the early morning hours anyways, like always.  
So Jack left the diner alone, tired, but also happy. He had finally talked to the guy that had always interested him and had found out that it was an author he loved reading. He became somewhat friends with said man and also had gotten his phone number. If now this forming crush would leave him alone, everything would be great.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me what I'm doing it's 3am and I had to re-write the last fewhundred words because everything got deleted and I only thankfully had copy pasted what I had written before so I didn't need to re-write all of it, but some. (I had ~1700 words copy-pasted I think).  
> And yeah I just got this idea and wanted to write it out.  
> This will not be long and I'm trying to finish this right now and upload it immediately.
> 
> idea: there’s this weird guy every day and hes just writing and today he seems really frustrated so i bought him a coffee and we got talking and hes really cute wtf


	2. Chapter 2

Sometime in the morning, while Jack was coloring a page of the comic he was working on in his company, did he get a text. His phone vibrating on his desk made an annoying sound, so Jack laid his tablet pen down and picked up his phone. He could afford a little break to look at who’s texting him, especially since he was almost done with the page and would wait to get the next outlined page to colour.  
It was nice, Jack and his coworker were always switching between chapters of the comic. One chapter Jack would sketch and outline, and then the next he would only colour and shade. The text added a third person in in the end. This way, working on the comic didn’t get too boring, since they switched what they did. And even though their styles were different from each other -both the lining and the coloring- the comic was loved and had thousand of readers.

Looking at his phone, the text was from Mark. It was the first one between them, so Jack was of course curious and opened it. He was met with a picture of Mark’s open notebook, showing pages full of words, with the caption: “Thanks for the inspiration :D”.  
Jack chuckled, smiling happily. He was glad that he had helped Mark get inspired, and told him just that. The two of them texted a little, until Jack got notified that the next outlined page was ready for him. He told Mark that he had to go, to which the writer responded that he’d go to sleep now anyways, which made Jack laugh a little. Laying down his phone on the desk again, Jack got back to work.

At the end of the day, Jack had done a good amount of work and had continued with it at home as well, though there it was a different kind of work. There, he worked on a commission, which he finished and send to the costumer, already having received the payment before hand. Jack liked to get the price for the sketch send immediately, and he’d send the sketch to the person first, to see if it is alright the way it is, before he would finish it and receive the rest of the payment. It worked out rather well, since no effort Jack was doing went unpaid that way, and the costumers could be sure their piece of art was to their liking.

Now, it was late in the evening and Jack contemplated what to do. He could continue drawing, or he could do something else. He didn’t feel tired enough to sleep yet. Throughout the day, he had texted with Mark, after the man had gotten up again at least. Mark had send him a link to some music some time as well, which Jack had listened to while drawing. It was pretty good and Jack was glad to have heard it, it definitely had kept the creativity up.  
Texting Mark again, Jack asked if the guy was at the diner again. Maybe they could meet up there and spend some time together, get to know each other. Jack would love to do that at least, since the little crush that had sprouted last night was still there.  
And, to no one’s surprise, Mark was there. He agreed to just chat with Jack while they would both be there, so Jack got up and out of his apartment, walking to the diner. It was almost like a date, but also kind of not. Depends on what you consider a date and what not.

Once there, it was easy to spot the writer, so Jack went over to his friend and sat down. They easily fell into a conversation, Mark putting his writing things aside to only focus on Jack. They both ordered some food, and kept talking afterwards.  
Jack talked about how he got interested in drawing, how he slowly became better and started commissions and was then found by the company he’s currently working at.  
Mark talked about how he began to write and always wanted to be an author, so he kept writing all his life, even though he went to college to become an engineer -which never happened. He talked about how he wrote his first short stories and how he had gotten the idea in this diner actually.  
Talking about their other interests led to the topic of music, comedy, movie and video games, and they talked all throughout their meals. Hours passed, and only when Jack began to yawn after every sentence, did they decide that they should maybe stop and go home.

It became sort of a routine for the both of them to meet at the diner after that. Usually they would sit in silence, Mark writing and Jack drawing, but sometimes they would talk during it, or only talk to each other. They often exchanged pages of their notebooks as well, Jack giving Mark drawings to write something, and Mark often gave Jack little writings or even little doodles he had made himself, to give Jack something to draw.  
When they didn’t meet up at the cafe, Jack would usually wake up to at least a handful of texts from Mark, or some picture/s. He liked texting Jack especially when he was frustrated and was stuck, but also when he was able to write a lot. It was honestly very adorable of the writer.

A month or so later, and neither of them really noticed that when they met, they now sat next to each other in the booth, or that when one of them was tired, they’d lay their head on the other’s shoulder and sometimes even fall asleep. They started seeing each other during the day, going out to eat or do something fun. They hadn’t even noticed that they started to hold each other’s hands when walking together, or even while sitting next to each other. It all just happened so naturally, without words, and neither ever acknowledged it.  
Until one day, when they met at the diner in the night again. Mark had told Jack he had something important he wanted to show him and ask about, so of course Jack came -even though he would’ve anyways.

Arriving at the diner, Jack saw Mark sitting at their usual booth, with something that weren’t his notebook or collegeblock in front of him. Curious, Jack sat down next to Mark, and could see the top page of the bound together pages -like a manuscript.  
“Sparks?”, Jack read aloud, looking questioningly at Mark. The writer seemed nervous, which was reflected in the chuckle he gave upon Jack’s question.  
“It’s a- ah. Another collection of short stories”, Mark said. “I’d love it if you’d, look through it?”, he asked, sounding unsure, but hoping. It made Jack grin.  
“Sure thing”, Jack grinned at Mark, before turning to the collection in front of him.

The first page after the cover wasn’t that interesting. It just stated that it was a collection of short stories, blah blah blah. Actually going through the pages, Jack’s eyes were quick to widen. He found himself faced with his own drawings, taking up a page, before being met with the short story that had been inspired by it.  
Looking up to Mark with disbelieve in his eyes, Jack could see how nervous and anxious Mark was about this. He hadn’t asked Jack to use his artworks after all, and if he wanted to publish the collection he’d need his okay and all..  
“I love it”, Jack said and smiled widely at Mark. He couldn’t believe that Mark would ever consider using the silly little drawings Jack gave him to use for a story collection.  
“Y-you do?”, Mark asked, not believing what he was hearing. Jack nodded, putting the work down on the table again to face Mark.  
“’m honored too! I’d love ta see this published”, Jack told Mark, taking the mans hands in his own, giving them a squeeze. It made Mark calm down a little, and he smiled in return.

“Was tha’ the question ya wanted to ask me?”, Jack asked then, since that was a pretty important question to be asked. But knowing Mark, there could always be more he just hadn’t told yet.  
“W-well, kind of. There’s, uh. Another question, though”, Mark admitted, turning his gaze away. He sounded nervous, a blush on his cheeks.  
“An’ that is?”, Jack asked, leaning forward a little.  
“Would you -uhm. Would. uhmm...”, Mark seemed to struggle with his words, so Jack gave his hands another reassuring squeeze and a smile. Mark took a second to calm down and gather his thoughts, before trying again.  
“Would you.. like to.. would you like to be my b-boyfriend?”, Mark asked, squeezing his eyes shut quickly. He had no idea what to expect as reaction, and he was honestly a little scared. The sight of it was damn adorable.  
“Of course!”, was Jack’s answer, a blush on his cheeks now as well. Right when Mark looked at him again, almost in disbelief, Jack overcame the short distance between them and kissed Mark.  
The writer nearly melted into the kiss, and when they parted again, both were smiling softly, but brightly, their cheeks flushed.

A few weeks later and Mark had found a publisher who would make his new short story collection into a book. And not too long after, and the book was being sold in stores. It had a loving mention to Jack in it as well, short and sweet, thanking him for the inspiration the drawings provided and giving Mark the strength to continue.

A few months later and the two had moved in together. They hadn’t lived that far apart, but their relationship was going amazingly and their love towards each other was as strong as it could be. They didn’t have to meet late in the night in the diner anymore, though it was now like a tradition to go there from time to time, to talk or to write and draw.  
And not long after moving together, Mark had finished his novel. Jack was the first person to read it, even before it got published, so that the writer could get an honest opinion on it from someone he trusted with all his heart. Only after Jack was done reading it, did it go out to the public.

It was mostly horror mystery, with maybe a little fantasy. And Jack had designed the cover for the book, even made a few little illustrations for inside the book. And in the back was again a mention from Mark to Jack, his loving boyfriend, thanking him for all the support and love and strength he’s given Mark. Without Jack, the novel wouldn’t have been able to be written and made reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it guys  
> A short story of around 4000 words and a cute prompt and cute ending  
> And everything's awesome, aw yeah  
> Hope y'all liked it  
> It's now 4:15am and I am tired and should sleep


End file.
